Daphne Faye
Bio
I love to write personal essays. Some are humorous; others are more serious, but they're always heartfelt. I'm also an avid photographer, check me out on Instagram @molelovesbokeh
Stories (9)
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How my Stoma Taught me Self-Love . Content Warning.
It was about 4:30 p.m. on a Tuesday in February when I got the call confirming I had cancer. I was in the bathroom at work when I answered the phone. Upon hearing the doctor gently say, “I’m sorry, you have colon cancer,” I started blushing. I saw myself redden in the mirror and felt warmth spread through my body until it landed around my knees, which were about to buckle.
By Daphne Fayeabout a year ago in Writers
Cancer: a story in many parts
If there’s one thing about the world of work I hate, it’s meetings. They are pointless, forced and interminable and you can’t convince me otherwise. When I started working at a food bank last year, we had both huddles and meetings. I found the huddles to be more bearable if only because every huddle ended with a description of the free lunch that was to be served at the cafeteria. The chef would read the menu off his phone and it was always some variation on extreme comfort food: there was the turkey dinner with a side of three carbohydrates, two of which were usually covered in cheese, the burger lunch with French fries, the noodle lunch in which the greasy noodles were fried and piled high on a plate, the spaghetti and meatballs lunch smothered in cheese and on and on these oppressive lunches went.
By Daphne Faye3 years ago in Longevity
My War Against Books
I am not a great reader, despite growing up in a house full of books. I actually prefer words to books. I used to think that a lover of words had to be a lover of books, but, after agreeing to join a couple of book clubs, I discovered that the two are not necessarily compatible.
By Daphne Faye3 years ago in Confessions
Dearest Lala: Letter to my co-worker's infant daughter
Dearest Lala, This is your Aunt Moley. You’ve only met me once and quite frankly I found you curt. I know, I know, you're only 10 months old, I get it up to a point. Maybe I’m too sensitive. People certainly tell me that. I don’t have kids, and I don’t know how to talk to them. I guess you could sense my awkwardness and that’s why you dismissed me.
By Daphne Faye4 years ago in Confessions
The Joy of Yelling at Objects. Top Story - July 2022.
I got up earlier than usual the other morning. As I stumbled aross the bedroom floor on my way to coffee, I saw the scale just sitting there. Oh okay, what the hell, I thought. I stepped on it, still bleary-eyed, but as soon as I looked down I became wide awake with rage.
By Daphne Faye4 years ago in Humans
Now That It’s Almost Over. Top Story - June 2022.
I have begun spotting. And what could spotting be at my age except a harbinger of perimenopause which is a harbinger of menopause? Last night I asked Google, What causes spotting? Why am I spotting? How long does spotting last? Then I asked Google to go deeper: Show me images of spotting. Show me images of extreme spotting. Show me images of spotting gone horribly wrong. Google was only too happy to oblige.
By Daphne Faye4 years ago in Confessions
Who are you at the supermarket
I'm an avid street photographer, which is really code for "I'm an avid people watcher." Few things can rival looking at people and imagining what their story is. Perhaps the only thing that could top that is is looking at people and knowing exactly what their story is. So, to correct myself, it's people judging, not people watching that I indulge in on a regular basis. It's terrible, I know, but unavoidable, especially at the grocery store. If I see you pushing a cart filled with Wonder Bread, orange soda and Cocoa Puffs, I expect to see you and your toothless brood at a monster truck rally. If I see you buying duck breast, an artisanal jar of pickled beets and kombucha, I know you probably work as an Instagram influencer and that you could and probably do talk forever about food trucks.
By Daphne Faye4 years ago in Humans
